


It's Quiet Uptown

by WaywardGraves



Series: Songs of the Human Heart [1]
Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Recovery, This has got to be my fluffiest piece yet, my boys deserve the world, prior relationship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-11
Updated: 2017-05-11
Packaged: 2018-10-30 18:53:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10882866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardGraves/pseuds/WaywardGraves
Summary: "And so they move uptown, and learn to live with the unimaginable."





	It's Quiet Uptown

_There are moments that the words don’t reach, There is suffering too terrible to name._

* * *

 

The soft _pat, pat, pat,_ of the rain on the glass does nothing to soothe the irksome sound of the spells beeping and monitoring his current state. It’s been four weeks since he was taken from the hell where Grindelwald had hidden him away for so long. It’s been two weeks since he opened his eyes to the cold, clinical whiteness that he knows all too well to be the hospital that he’s spent so much time in through his career. It’s been one week since Seraphina showed up to debrief him of the situations that occurred while he was indisposed. The foreigner with a troublesome suitcase, his protogé going rogue, and the unfortunate death of the poor Second Salem boy. After that scrap of news Percival turned and gazed out the window. He stares at the grey of the sky, it looks like rain is coming, they say this is New York’s wettest November.

 

Once she accepts she’s lost his attention she drops the files off on the side of his bed and leaves. After a long while Percival picks up one file, flips it open, then tosses it to the side without reading. He does this with every single folder until he finds the one he is looking for. His throat constricts and his heart beats so rapidly it feels like it’s trying to escape his chest. Dark eyes under darker hair look just to the side of the camera. The no-maj picture doesn’t move and Percival resents that more than he should. He wants to tell this boy just how sorry he is that he didn’t know, that he didn’t _see_ just how much his suffering has cost him. He reads and re-reads the thin file of the Second Salemers and he takes in every bit of information on the obscurus that wrecked the city. Every time he reads that word his heart skips a beat. He allows his fingers to trace over the letters; forming the name that he, himself, spoke so often. His lips wrapping around the syllables like something holy, like in prayer. Murmuring it into soft hair in dark alleys during secret rendezvous, during missions to remind himself what he’s fighting for, to the empty room in the dead of night when he reaches down and takes himself in hand, spilling onto the cold sheets below.

 

 _Credence._ The beautiful, sorrowful, _magical_ , boy that had never known kindness until Percival bumped into him, quite by accident, outside the Woolworth Building one day. He sent the young man sprawling to the ground and when he reached down to help him up, his large hand closed around a much smaller one that slipped from his grasp as it was slick with blood.

 

“My boy,” he asked, “what happened to you?”

 

“N-nothing, sir. I have to go.” The young man replied and tried to scramble away. But Percival caught the hem of his threadbare jacket and dragged him into the nearest alley. Casting a silent notice-me-not he held the boy’s fragile palm in his own, turning it over, taking in the scars and wounds that seem to date back decades. He trails his eyes up the lithe body and tries to looks at his eyes but his head is down, intensely staring at his shoes. He reaches forward and places the tips of fingers under that delicate chin and gently lifts his head up. He’s shocked by the intensity of the boy’s gaze, how someone so meek could hold such depth. Without breaking eye contact, almost in a trance; he takes one hand, runs his fingers along the wounds, knitting them back together. He’s satisfied to hear the hitch of breath, to see the wonder spark in eyes so dark they’re almost black. Once he’s done with both hands he brings them up, pressing a kiss into the scarred palms. He looks at the boy and brushes away a tear that’s fallen down his cheek.

 

“What’s your name, my boy?” Graves asks.

 

“C _redence._ ” Comes the breathy whisper.

 

The poor boy who looked at him with reverence. The broken body that he made new. The unwavering adoration that made Percival feel like a king and made him want to do _anything_ to ensure the young man’s happiness. The beautiful soul that was born from pain, that died thinking Percival was using him. Never would he know the feelings he inspired in a man everyone called cold-hearted. He died while a madman in Percival’s skin spit in the boy’s face and crushed him beneath his heel. Graves can’t imagine the betrayal he must’ve felt. But he can’t deny it’s deserved, Percival did betray Credence when he didn’t fight hard enough and allowed Gellert Grindelwald to touch _his_ boy.

 

It’s been four weeks since Graves has been brought to the hospital. It’s been four weeks since he spoke. The last thing he said was some curse thrown towards his captor during a torture session, then everything went black. The next time he opened his eyes was to the room he’s currently occupying. He’s watching the rain fall down the glass while Tina comes to visit. She looks nervous and excited and it catches his attention compared to the sullen nature he’s gotten used to from those who bother to come see him. He looks over at her and she tells him something he never dared to let himself dream. That Newt (God bless him) put more faith in Credence’s power than anyone else, and somehow, someway found a wisp of the obscurus. The magizoologist helped the boy reform, become the young man they once knew, and managed to separate the parasite from the host. The process of how he succeeded seemed fascinating but Graves only focused on one detail.

 

Credence is alive. Credence is _here_. Here in the hospital. And before Tina could stop him he’s rushing out of his ward, towards the room number she mentioned. He can barely hear her calling him back over the sound of his heart in his ears. He wastes no time pushing open the door and entering, already having been away from his boy for so long. However, as he sees him sleeping peacefully on the white cot, his legs tremble as he forces himself inside. His brain registers Tina appearing behind him in the doorway but he only has eyes for the young man whose hair fans out around his head like a dark halo. He drops to his knees beside the bed, but can’t bring himself to reach out, to touch. Percival doubts the boy would want anything to do with him after the pain he’s added to a lifetime of suffering. But in that moment, with tears in his eyes, he lets out a whisper that could only be caught if you were listening for it.

 

“ _Credence_.”

 

Grumbling, Percival allows Tina to bring him back to his room. The adrenaline has faded away and he can feel the pain in his leg that won’t seem to go away. However, he doesn’t sleep that night. Tossing and turning and trying to figure out just what to say to Credence when they finally meet again. The next day Seraphina shows up and announces it was decided that, as Newt had an urgent meeting in London, Credence should stay with Graves for the time being. The obscurus is gone but they don’t know how far his powers still extend, and accidental magic can happen. Percival doesn’t see the boy until he’s already back in his brownstone. He tries to tidy up the mess Grindelwald left but he can’t bring himself to go into his own bedroom, where he _knows_ the man slept soundly while innocents were being slaughtered in his name. Tina drops Credence off on the front door mat and then disapperates. She’s never been good with tension (to be fair, neither has Percival) but this is one thing he can’t escape.

 

He clears his throat and looks at the boy who resolutely keeps his gaze down. This is one time where he’s thankful for that submissive behavior and he doesn’t plan on correcting the boy. If he had to look him in the eyes and see what he knows _must_ be there ( _hurt.pain.fear.betrayal_ ) he doesn’t think he’ll be able to live with himself. The only thing he can think to say is, “Hello, Credence,” and he mentally curses himself for being so lame.

 

But when the soft, “Hello, Mr. Graves,” comes in return he could almost weep tears of joy at hearing his name on those blood red lips.

 

“I need to tell you, Credence. Whatever happened these last few months, it wasn’t me. You have to belie—”

 

“I know, Mr. Graves. Miss Tina told me everything.”

 

Percival blinks in surprise, “Oh, well I’m glad you know,” he says, “I’m so sorry this happened Credence. I will do everything I can to make it better.” The boy just nods his head, still refusing to look up. Not knowing what else to say Graves does what he’s best at, diverting, “Let me show you your room.”

 

He takes to boy to the second bedroom and gets him settled in, which isn’t hard considering he has no personal effects. Percival leaves as soon as he has the opportunity and he goes to make two cups of tea in the kitchen. Returning to the guest room… no, _Credence’s_ room, he softly opens the door to give the boy his cup. However, he finds him passed out on top of the covers. Clearly he needs his rest so Graves charms the tea to stay warm and he goes to the living room where he makes due on the couch and tries to succumb to the darkness.

 

He’s awaked by horse shouts in the middle of the night. Distantly, he thinks Credence might be having a night terror but when he opens his watery eyes he meets the young man’s for the first time in months and is surprised to see concern swirling in them. It doesn’t take long to realize that the screams were coming from his own throat. Silently, Credence passes him the cup of tea he left on the coffee table. “Thank you, my boy.” He says, and tries to smile.

 

Once Credence knows that Graves is okay he looks away and stands up, “Thank you for making me tea, sir. It was thoughtful.”

 

“Anything for you Credence, you know that.” Graves is desperate to reach out, to take the other’s hand like he’s done on so many occasions, or pull him into an embrace, or press their lips together. He does none of that though, and he hates himself for even wanting it after what happened to the boy.

 

Credence turns around and with a mumbled, “Goodnight, Mr. Graves,” he starts toward to his room. However, he gives pause at the doorway and looks over his shoulder, “I’m sorry this happened to you too, sir,” and without waiting for a response he retreats, closing the door behind him.

 

The days turn to weeks and the two of them become more familiar with the other’s presence. They eat meals together, they have tea in the study, they rarely talk (but neither of them were very talkative before so that’s nothing new). Yet, the weight of the situation, the reason why they’re living under the same roof is a pressure on whatever relationship they have. To an outside view, they look at peace, but the tension within their terse conversations is tight as a piano wire ready to snap.

 

As the weeks drag on, it becomes clear that whatever magic Credence had was lost with the obscurus. A heavy blow to the both of them, Percival thinking that the boy will never be able to fully join the wizarding world and get out from a home he must despise; and Credence thinking that Graves might throw him out after learning that he is, as the imposter once accused him of being, a squib. Meals become shorter after that and Credence no longer joins Graves for tea. He becomes ravenous for information on subjects he can do without magic, books on potions and herbology flood the house. Graves is glad to help the young man find his place in the world while Credence is desperate to show the older man that he can be useful.

 

No matter how many weeks pass though neither of them can shield themselves from the horrors of the past while they are lost in their respective dreamscapes. There doesn’t go a night that one or both men aren’t found at the kitchen table, drinking tea and trying to calm their nerves. The ghosts of Grindelwald’s terror plague them in the shadows on the walls and the memories held in the foundation of their current residence.

  
It’s Credence who suggests it first, with Graves being retired due to his his unhealing injury and the boy’s family long gone, what’s tying them to the city? Percival agrees instantaneously, agreeing that leaving would be the best for both of them (and also, wanting to give Credence anything he could possibly desire) they put the brownstone on the market and with Percival’s fortune, buy a small cottage in a secluded area of upstate New York. In a place where the sun will shine through the windows; with a backyard for Credence to start practicing herbology. A place where the shadows hopefully won’t follow.

 

 

* * *

_And so they moved uptown, and learn to live with the unimaginable._

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this amaaaaaaazing fanart by uneasywolf on Tumblr. 
> 
> https://waywardgraves.tumblr.com/post/160489147715/fantastic-beasts-smut-funkzpiel-uneasywolf
> 
> Also, thanks to KamikazeSoundSociety for being the best beta ;)


End file.
